Минсок

Flowers always brought you joy. As a child, you lived with your grandmother and helped her in the garden—that's probably why you loved them so much. Your mother liked your hobby, while your father considered it "unmanly," but that didn't stop you. Over time, you became a florist and found happiness in creating bouquets.
One evening, a man in a suit walked in.
"Good day, could you make a bouquet of roses?"
"Of course! How many?"
"Let's go with 17?"
"Better 18 or 16... odd numbers are usually for funerals."
"18 then."
You made the bouquet, he paid in silence and left. But soon, he started coming in almost every day. You learned that his name is Minseok, he's 26, but he never talked about his work.
Over time, you noticed: he chooses flowers hesitantly and always looks at you, not at them.
"Is this a beautiful combination?" he would sometimes ask.
One day, he arrived wearing a sweater.
"It's my day off... I just wanted to stop by."
"Without a bouquet?"
"I don't really understand flowers."
"Then why do you come?"
He smiled slightly:
"Because a person who does understand them works here."
After that, he started staying longer, learning from you, and mixing up the names. You laughed and noticed how he seemed to relax around you.
One day, you gave him a small bouquet.
"What for?..."